No Crown Without Chains
by themirrorminder.372259
Summary: - Clove wins the 72nd Hunger Games, but Cato Snow wins her - President Snow never denies his favourite grandson anything, so easily indulges Cato's newest obsession. Clove spends a lifetime vying for a crown, realizing too late that it comes with chains ceding her to a monster. - Ramsay Bolton-level dark, Sansa Stark-level revenge. Some Katniss x Peeta. Rated M as of Chapter 2.
1. Chapter 1: Red & Gold

**_Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns Hunger Games and I (unfortunately) make no profit from this *shrugs*_**

* * *

 ** _Summary:_** **{** _Clove wins the 72nd Hunger Games, and Cato Snow wins her_ **}**

 **President Snow has never denied his favourite grandson anything, so easily indulges Cato's newest obsession. Clove had spent a lifetime vying for a crown, she just never realized it came with chains.**

* * *

 **WARNINGS** : **Non-con** (not explicit), unsafe abortion, evil Capitol, evil Cato. Cato and Clove are listed as a "pairing" because they share POV chapters (like Katniss and Peeta will), but their "relationship" is one-sided (remember the main genre is **horror** ). I.e. Cato is evil/obsessive/possessive/Ramsay Bolton-level (for non-GOT viewers, that means BAD), and Clove is a victim of his madness (but don't worry, at the end, you get some satisfying Sansa Stark-style revenge). You'll get the angst (and maybe some fluffy romance) with the Katniss and Peeta chapters.

* * *

It was Friday night and the lights were shinning  
Everyone was sitting in the stands  
He was being scouted by a big time college  
She played trumpet in the marching band  
In the parking lot, when the game was over  
She had a bus to ride  
When he pulled up in his buddy's truck  
And the door swung open wide

He was the quarterback  
Smile at her, imagine that  
How do you explain the star of the game  
And the no name girl from the freshman class

She got out at a bonfire party  
Never had a drink before  
But he held it to her lips and she took her first sip  
And before she knew it, she had three more

She always heard that a girls first time,  
Is a memory she'll never forget  
She found out the hard way about love  
When she saw those pictures on the internet

He was the quarterback  
Smile at her, imagine that  
Who you gonna blame the star of the game  
Or the no name girl in the freshman class  
He was the quarterback  
Smile at her, imagine that  
Who you gonna blame, the star of the game  
Or the no name girl in the marching band

Oooh-Oooh

Monday morning when the word got out  
Everybody picked a side  
He had the school and the whole town too  
And she had nothing but the truth inside

He was the quarterback  
Smile at her, imagine that  
Who you gonna blame, the star of the game  
Or the no name girl in the freshman class  
He was the quarterback  
Lied to her, imagine that  
He was the quarterback  
She was in the freshman class  
He was the quarterback  
Yeah  
Who you gonna blame the star of the game  
Or the no name girl in the freshman class

~Kira Isabella, 'Quarterback'

* * *

 **No Crown Without Chains**

* * *

 **Chapter 1:**

Red & Gold

* * *

He is born to be a King, with a throne to be inherited when his grandfather is laid to rest.

)(

She is born as the child of a whore, and is thrown into the streets when she refuses to lay on a bed.

* * *

He indulges every whim, every impulse, and never once meets a consequence.

)(

She is responsible for raising two siblings, when she is still a child herself.

* * *

He gets begrudgingly dragged to all of the ceremonies for every one of the Hunger Games. It's annoying.

)(

She forces herself to train as hard as she can, vying for a crown that will come with gold. It's exhausting.

* * *

Clove is only fifteen years old when the District 2 Training Centre deems her ready. They tell her with their pride-filled eyes and upturned mouths: " _you are finally good enough to win."_

So it is with an eagerness to prove them right and meet their expectations - it is with the thrumming desire to _win_ \- that Clove is sent to the Capitol for the 72nd Hunger Games. She is further reassured because even if she dies, District 2 takes care of the immediate families listed by tributes, even those of tributes that don't return as Victors. (She's still going to fight tooth and nail to come back to her siblings though. She will not subject them to seeing her die on television, leagues away).

The first day of training comes and goes, and she is further reassured. Devoric is perhaps her only competition. _Thud thud thud._ Every knife hits its mark, and every non-Career trembles at the confidence brightening her eyes (perhaps the Careers do too, they just hide it better).

)(

Cato is nineteen years old when he first lays eyes on her.

When he wanders into the Gamemaker's viewing box, it is to kill time before the first Sponsors Banquet. Cato is completely uninterested in attending; the event this evening is going to be a silly, useless, _boring_ banquet (as it is every year). But, his grandfather demanded Cato make an appearance to smile for the Capitol's wealthiest and most influential patrons. Cato finds it annoying, barely tolerable, but whatever. He isn't stupid enough to step out of his grandfather's favor.

Cato turns to look through the one-way mirror. Sometimes he likes to analyze the tributes, and predict who will be the winner from how they perform during the first training session. He is right more often than he is wrong, but sometimes the Games surprise him. He hears the piercing of knives hitting a target, _thud thud thud_ , and tries to locate which of the tributes' skills is actually worth his gaze.

He sees her, and he can't tear his eyes away.

A dark-haired girl with 2 emblazoned on her back - throwing knife after knife with unerring precision. The District 2 girl so intimately skilled with knives is not his usual type, but something about her draws him in immediately. She is deadly, but graceful. She is skilled and smirks with every target she hits, terrifying all of the non-Careers (and from what he can see, even the girl from 4 and boy from 1) with her accuracy. She is _powerful._ She has big dark eyes, sharp cheekbones, pouty pink lips, and what looks like a flexible and tight body. She is… pretty. _'Violent and volatile... you would make the prettiest doll.'_

In fact, Cato bets she would look even prettier underneath him, moaning his name as he pounds her into a mattress. He watches her for a while, waiting for his interest to wane, but it only continues to grow. His eyes trace the gentle swells of curve along her body, memorizing the shapeliness of her toned calves. ' _Mine.'_ He wants her, so he decides he'll be taking her. Cato has never been one to deny himself anything, and won't start now. After leaving the viewing box, he casually swaggers over to the previous District 2 Victors that were stuck coaching this year.

* * *

Clove and her partner, Devoric, arrive back to the quarters assigned to the District 2 team. When the door opens, they see a rigid Brutus and a seething Enobaria, both standing unerringly erect in the centre of the open space in the living area. The tension in the room is palpable, so both tributes immediately know something is very wrong. Apparently, there is no time for explanations. Brutus drags Devoric away without answering any of his questions. Enobaria pulls Clove to her room, where she is surprised to see that her prep team awaits.

"What's going on? I thought we didn't have any events planned for this evening?" Clove asks, confused. In response, Enobaria just shoves her at Ribbon, the giggling fool of a prep leader, and slams the room door. Clove isn't blind, she saw the regret swirling in Enobaria's eyes, and unease crawls along her skin.

 _'What happened?'_

)(

Cato is whistling as he changes into his suit.

* * *

Enobaria warns Clove fervently. "Do _not_ do anything to displease President Snow's grandson. Don't run your mouth, don't make a scene, don't do anything to embarrass him, and don't tell him no. If you deny him anything, then trust me Clove, you are dead. Your platform will explode the second the Games start, you will never get the Victor's prize, he'll find a way to hurt your sister and brother, and you will never see District 2 again."

Enobaria seems so certain throughout her well-meaning tirade, but Clove is still confused. She has never met Cato Snow, only has a vague recollection of seeing a tall blond standing behind President Snow during past mandatory official broadcasts. "I don't understand. What does he even want with me?"

Brutus scoffs, flinging his hand towards her attire. "Don't be naive. Look at what you're wearing."

Clove is very well aware of it, and does not need nor want to be reminded of it at all. A dress that is too tight, too low cut, and with too high a hem. The fabric is a gauzy blood red, with a plunging V-neck in the front and back. The delicate jewel encrusted snowflake dangling as a pendant just below her collar bone does nothing to detract from just how much of her skin is being put on display.

Enobaria snarls at Brutus, while Clove wraps her arms around herself. Almost immediately, her mentor turns back towards her and roughly pulls Clove's arms away. Enobaria looks at her mentee right in the eyes when she delivers her parting words. "Don't deny him anything Clove. Just do whatever he wants, and try to charm some sponsors at the banquet. Then when you're done you can win these damn Games, go home, and forget whatever he does to you."

Clove nods, despite the nausea clawing up her throat.

)(

Cato decides on the large garnet cufflinks, smirking as he feels the sharpened edge of the hard-cut stones.

He contemplates where he'll take her afterwards.

* * *

Brutus barely holds back his rage when Cato strolls up to doorway of the District 2 quarters. The moment Cato sees Clove, the sick bastard's eager gaze scans her over like a piece of meat. Then the spoiled brat has the nerve to put both of his hands on her, and slowly trace over her face before running his palms over her neck. For a moment it looks like Cato is tempted to drop his hands even lower, and there is a darkening of his eyes that suggest he might just forgo the banquet portion of the evening all together. However, the entitled wretch just grins lasciviously, and doesn't even take his gaze off of Clove's chest while telling Brutus and Enobaria not to expect her back tonight. Clove doesn't say anything, thankfully, and does nothing as Cato drags her away to the banquet.

Brutus turns to Enobaria and sighs bitterly. "It was cruel, to give her false hope."

Enobaria lets her fists relax. Her palms are bleeding from where her nails had broken skin."What do you mean?" She forces out through a jaw that is barely unclenched.

Brutus turns to the large wall-length window, facing the blinding lights of the Capitol. A sprawling city that looks so neat and perfect from above, but is filled with foul back alleys and even fouler people. "I have never seen him just _take_ a tribute before. No one ever has. If Clove has caught Cato's interest..." Brutus closes his eyes, unable to continue looking out at the place that has caged them all. _'That poor girl.'_ He presses his forehead against the cool glass of the window, willing for himself to come to another conclusion, but knowing in his gut that he is right. "Clove has caught Cato Snow's interest, Eno. She's never going home."

* * *

It ends up being some sort of rich person banquet. There are multiple wealthy potential sponsors mingling in the lavishly decorated hall, laughing too loudly and smiling too widely. Most people are wearing enough ostentatious jewels on their person to feed the homeless in her district for a _year._ Despite her aborrhence of them, impressing these lecherous and avaricious pigs will get her gifts that might save her life in the Games. Clove is trying very, very hard to remember that fact. It's incredibly hard to do so. Because every time a grinning Cato shows her off to another potential sponsor, and introduces her as the future Victor, the men (and even most of the women) spend most of the conversation starring at her breasts, her hips, her legs, or her lips. They all seem to be evaluating her, dragging their eyes over her with an unexpected greedy anticipation. She doesn't want to even begin to ponder their reasons for doing so. Some are even forward enough to forgo silent appraising, and instead speak completely non-subtle innuendos. Like mentioning how much fun it would be if they could _borrow_ her from Cato. Of course, Cato just laughs off any of these direct inquiries, and gives them all the same 'witty' response. "I've never been good at sharing," her escort says, while tightening both his smile and his grip on her.

Cato doesn't talk with her. He talks _to_ her. He leans in too close, lets his lips trace her ear every time he whispers anything about how lovely she looks, how soft her skin is, how he can't want to see more of it, how he can't wait to taste her. In between every introduction, Cato's hands and mouth wander over her. It is an active effort on her part for the entire evening to not flinch away from his unwanted attentions. When, at the end of the evening, he pulls her away into an alcove to shove his tongue down her throat and his hand between her legs, Clove lets him despite the alarms ringing in her head, and prays that this will be the end of it. She implores any deity that will listen, _'let it all be over soon.'_

)(

Clove's skin is so unexpectedly smooth, he can't get enough of it. She's been lathered in some sort of heady cinnamon scent that overloads his senses with lust. He hardens multiple times in the evening as he just stares at how absolutely ravishing she looks. He has to cover it up every time by pulling her back flush against his front, using her exquisite body as a barrier to the public while he imagines all sorts of random, unappealing things to calm himself down. He has never been this out of sorts over a bed conquest before, and it confuses him.

By the end of the evening, he has stopped himself from undressing her and bending her over the nearest table too many times. He has _never_ denied himself anything, and having to do so for his grandfather's sensibilities only serves to increase his desire for her. The moment he is excused from this ostentatious event, he drags her into a corner for an appetizer to sate him until the main course.

He lets his hands dance along her curves, memorizing them, and especially enjoys tasting the slope of her neck.

* * *

Clove takes deep breaths as Cato guides her towards a private room. She tries to memorize her way here, tries to figure out where she is in relation to the assigned quarters where her mentor awaits, but her mind is ringing too much to retain any of it. She wants to run away more than anything she has ever wanted in her entire life. Even more than she wants to win these Games. She hates how he looks at her, how he grabs her, how he acts as though he owns her. She wants nothing more than to castrate him and run, run, _run_.

 _'Don't deny him anything.'_ Enobaria's warning echoes in her ears. The faces of her siblings blur in her mind. The fear for their safety keeps her pliable, keeps her feet from turning and leaving the creature who refuses to release his bruising hold on her wrist.

They stop before a door at the end of the hallway. He punches in a code she can't remember, with the hand that isn't gripping hers. Then with a click and a whoosh, the door is sliding open. He smiles at her (and she's surprised for a moment, it's likely the first time in the evening he's looked at her _eyes_ ). He tugs her forwards. Her steps are quiet as she enters the foreign room. She hears him close the door behind her. It's just them now; her and a stranger and a stiffling silence in a poorly lit room with a large bed.

"What would you like?" She asks, voice cracking, fearing the answer.

' _Don't be naive.'_ Brutus's words seem so loud in her head as she feels Cato's large hands rub against the exposed skin of her back, slipping under the sides of he dress and making their way to the front. She closes her eyes tight, tenses against his unwanted wandering.

 _'Don't tell him no.'_

His teeth sink into the juncture between her neck and her shoulder. He breaks skin, then sucks on the blood that crawls out of the first wound.

 _'He'll find a way to hurt your sister and brother'_

He swerves her around, his eyes on fire as they leer at the jewel on the chain encircling her neck.

 _'You will never see District 2 again.'_

He releases his hands, and for a moment she thinks-

and then there is a rip, as he tears the fabric right down the middle, hungry gaze feasting on her bare skin.

His voice is ragged, thick with desire, as he smirks. "Fight back just enough to make interesting."

And then he shoves her onto the bed.

* * *

Cato is addicted to her. He ravishes her completely, again and again and again. Literally, until he physically cannot move anymore. And when that happens, and his new bedmate is a second from passing out herself, he yanks her up and forces half a bottle of AllNight down her throat before taking some large swigs for himself. The drink is a favourite of his, a potent mix of caffeine and alcohol. He then grabs her shoulders and uses his body to force her back underneath him. Then he ravishes her completely, again and again and again. When he tells her to put up a fight, she does. When he tells her to get on her knees, she does. When he tells her to beg, she does. When he puts his hands around her throat and squeezes, she lets him. It's intoxicating, the breathy sounds she makes when she's gasping for air underneath him. He craves it more and more, his unfettered power over this powerful girl. _'Mine. Mine. Forever mine.'_

Her eyes are dazed and her words are garbled. Perhaps he had given her a bit too much AllNight, considering her smaller stature. At one point her slurs are comprehensible enough that he can tell she is asking him if he is finished. She doesn't _directly_ ask him if she can leave, but her eyes are more lucid again, and begging him to let her go.

His blood boils. _'Stupid girl. You're mine. You're fucking mine.'_

He eyes her soft skin, marked by his hands and his mouth, but still so very smooth.

He remembers the sharp lines of his cufflinks.

Then he gets creative.

* * *

He takes his time.

When he is done, he lets his fingers claw over her abdomen, digging into every groove he has designed, tracing his marks.

Cato smiles, his breath warm on her neck.

"Now you can leave."

* * *

It is just before dawn when Finnick sees the back of what looks to be this year's most likely winner.

Finnick, who had just been leaving a client from one of the private wing rooms, was making his way up along the winding halls intending to go towards District 4's assigned quarters. That was when he notices the knife-throwing District 2 female, stumbling through the hallways, in the last place he would expect a tribute to be.

He is baffled as he stares on at how the slight girl is clearly relying on the wall to help keep her upright as she struggles towards the elevator. She moves at a snail's pace, and she is bare-footed.

He hurries up to confront her, and is about to ask her what the hell she is doing wandering the private halls (there is a reason they're secure, and wandering tributes could lose their heads for straying here. But just as the words begin to leave his lips, he reaches in front of her, and registers the girl's ripped dress, glassy eyes, blown pupils, shiny cheeks, bite-covered neck and chest, bruised arms and darkened thighs. And then there is her stomach, which is a mess of red. The blood has mostly coagulated, but while her right hand is gripping the wall to maintain her balance, her left is making a poor attempt to use the serrated edge (of what remains of the front of her dress) to staunch any remaining bleeding.

On her stomach, the letters "CATO SNOW" have been carved into her skin.

Finnick is horrified. No one has ever been allowed to take tributes before (Victors were another story).

"Can you take me to District 2, please?" The girl whispers, with a voice that sounds hoarse from overuse.

 _'Screaming.'_ Finnick realizes, with a sinking gut and rising bile. _'She had been screaming.'_

* * *

Finnick lifts her up into his arms slowly and gently. He verbalizes everything before he does it and lets her know every time he is about to touch her. He wonders what it means that she doesn't respond, that she doesn't flinch away. _'Has he turned you numb already?'_

He carries her to the District 2 assigned quarters, because as much as he would like to, he can't take her back home.

Enobaria opens the door. When the woman sees her mentee, the tribute's eyes blank and body bloody while being cradled in Finnick's arms, the older woman's feline eyes alight in fury. And yet, the District 2 Victor does nothing but gently take Clove from him. She goes into the quarters, but Finnick doesn't dare step inside. When she returns sans Clove, Enobaria says nothing but a terse thank you followed by a curt dismissal before slamming the door. Or at least, she tries to. Finnick stops it with his hands, his grip unrelenting and powered by a fury of his own that had built with every step up here, powered by an anger that is now scorching through his veins, a maddening disbelief that had been augmented every time the girl had winced in his grip.

" _Really?_ " He sneers. "She's still no more than a child, likely to win without any of this shit. And you sold her to that sick fuck for more sponsorship? You're _disgusting_."

Enobaria's look darkens. She looks ready to bite out his throat, but just growls back instead. "He wanted her. It was a death sentence if she refused him."

Finnick remembers how weak her voice had sounded and the emptiness of her bloodshot eyes. Then he recalls the cruel glint he had seen repeatedly in Cato Snow's eyes every time there was an execution in the Capitol or a bloody battle in the Games. It is true, the girl is likely to win the Games. But Finnick knows better now than most that winning the Games means nothing. She might escape the arena, but she'll never outrun Cato.

He swallows back his scorn, replaces it with pity. "Seems like giving her to him is worse than any death."

* * *

Clove won't get to see the medics until after today's training session. So, the morning after the... after he... _after the banquet_ , her prep team has to work double time to help hide the damage. They grumble over her clumsiness and ignore the fact that the ugly purple bruises are hand-shaped. They hide the bite marks with thick paint and tell her to take better care of her skin; warning her that they don't want to keep wasting their time hiding marks she gets from being trigger happy with her knife. They shake their head at Cato's name, and tell her to be a little less morbid in her attempts to woo their golden boy. "Harming yourself isn't going to attract someone as dignified as Cato Snow."

Clove keeps her mouth shut, despite the pungent taste of iron.

* * *

 _Thud, thud, thud._

That first morning, Clove is angry. She has never hated someone so fiercely, and imagines his face as her target. If the other tributes were wary of her before, they are terrified of her now.

 _Thud, thud, thud._

* * *

That night, Clove returns back to her room, exhausted from training and eager to sleep (eager to forget, eager to escape, eager for quiet). When she approaches her door, she is instead redirected by Enobaria. Clove's stomach clenches, and she hates how she whimpers. "I thought it was just once?"

Enobaria gives her a look with such profound pity, that Clove has to turn away. "I did too Clove."

Ribbon is so excited to dress her up again. He tells Clove how he has just heard the latest gossip, and how Clove is so, so _lucky_ to have caught the eye of the President's grandson, and how could she not tell him the big news sooner?

* * *

 _Thud, thud, thud._

Clove hits targets every morning, and lets him torture her every night.

 _Thud, thud, thud._

* * *

Clove is awarded a 12 for her training score, which hasn't happened in decades. She doesn't find out about this feat the traditional way, crossing her fingers in front of a screen with her team and mentors clapping her on the back for a job well-done.

Cato tells her.

To be more specific, he ties her to his bed post, then makes her count out each time he whips a belt against her back. Then he turns her around, pressing her nearly flayed back onto the bed with the weight of his body, and rapes her just as many times.

He makes her thank him before she gets to leave.

* * *

She is always made pretty again before the next night. Cato likes having a fresh canvas. And with the Capitol's technology, the scars disappear (the physical ones at least).

* * *

 _Shadows. Run. Echoes. Run. Phantoms. Run. Don't come near me. Don't come near me. Stay away. Keep your distance._

 _I feel his eyes. He's not here. He's coming back. No. He's going to take you again tonight. Stop. Stop. Stop. Be Silent. Shut up. Stop. Run. Hide. But there's nowhere to hide. He'll always find you. Run. Faster._

* * *

He moans her name, and she tries to forget. She tries to escape; she tries to hide in her mind but he notices every time she tries, and then he does something worse to bring her back to him.

* * *

 _Thud, thud, whoosh._

 ** _She missed._**

* * *

She needs to ignore it.

The shadows chasing her mind, his taunts echoing in her head.

She needs to ignore it.

The phantom pains from his touches, the urge to run every time someone gets near her.

She needs to ignore it.

The paranoia, the fear, the constant sense of him watching her and being ready to snatch her.

She needs to _ignore it._

She needs to ignore it because she needs to _win_. She needs to win, to go home, and forget Cato Snow every existed. If she can do that, then it will all go away, she's sure of it.

 _'I can do this.'_ She says to herself.

 _'I_ will _do this.'_ She screams in her head, pushing everything related to that monster into the back of her mind. She shoves it behind a door, chains it up, and leaves it there to fester. ' _I have to get home_.' She thinks of her siblings rounded faces, and she can't leave them alone in the world. Not yet, not ever. ' _I_ will _get home.'_

The monster behind the door bangs against it constantly. The wooden panelling gives away with every violent attack, leaking streams of horror through every crack. Clove knows the beast won't stay cast aside forever. She knows mental barrier is temporary, that she'll have to deal with it someday. And she tells herself that she will. She will deal with the creature when she has a crown on her head and the ability to lock herself in her Victor's house forever. She'll deal with the raging beast when she is back in District 2, in the safety of a home where Cato can't reach her.

* * *

Really, compared to the hell preceding them, the actual Games are a _respite_.

* * *

Near the end, Clove gets bitten by a persistent, unabating mutant snake. It had been one of the many serpents that had viciously chased down the remaining Careers until the group had scattered.

The reptile is headless now. But, her movements grow slow, with a numbness ascending from the puncture marks on her ankle. Clove, in this moment, is terrified that she is going to die. As she crawls towards the ravine, she thinks of her brother and sister, who are likely watching her now, and hopes that they look away from the screen. ' _Don't watch me die.'_ She begs them in her mind. ' _I don't want you to remember me like this.'_

Then, there is a parachute that falls into her lap. It has a vial.

She uncorks it and swallows its contents immediately.

The numbness in her legs recedes just as quickly as the cool liquid runs down her throat.

There is a note with the gift. And she is so terrified to read it.

(The beast behind the door is screaming again, banging against its prison, eager to be set free.)

The vial was _anti-venom_. This late in the Games, she knows there is only one person who is wealthy and influential enough to purchase it for her. There is only one person who is _invested_ enough in her to purchase it to save her. With trembling hands, she unfolds the note:

 ** _'Our game isn't over yet.'_**

* * *

Cato misses having her, and hates that she has spent so long away from him. He is annoyed that she is doing so well, leading the Career pack and nicking off opponents left and right. He hates the banter she has with the male from 4, and the way that the male half of 1 always stares after her.

He feels no guilt at all when he tells the Gamemaker, Pollo, to ensure one of the snakes bite her. She outruns it, her and her partner are easily the fastest of the Careers, but he demands Pollo make the snake follow her. Pollo is hesitant, initially, saying something about her having already been one of the four Careers who had been able to outrun the mutants. Mentions something about her being a favourite to win.

Cato all but orders the man to do his bidding, and coldly informs Pollo that it is in the best interest of his longevity to not ever question the President's grandson again. Pollo literally shakes when faced with Cato's icy tone.

Cato, satisfied that there will be no more questioning of his desires, then takes great pleasure in instructing Pollo to ensure that one of the snakes strangle 4 while another eats through the throat of 1. ' _She's mine.'_

He smiles as she drinks from the vial.

 _'She'll drink my gift and owe me forever.'_

* * *

In the end, it is her versus Devoric. His smile is bloody; red liquid dribbles freely from his cheek, courtesy of a wound she had carved. "Are you sure you even want to win?" Devoric jeers. "He'll have you for a lifetime then."

She considers his words while they fight. She suspects that they are true, and suspects she has been lying to herself for a long time.

 _'I'm not going home.'_

She almost lets herself be killed when she realizes it. She knows Devoric will make it quick. Perhaps he would do so out of a small affection born from years of training together (or at least out of pity if nothing else). But then Clove remembers that her sister bears a resemblance to herself. Not a lot, but... but maybe just enough for Cato.

* * *

Cato is smiling brightly as he puts the golden circlet over Clove's dark locks at her Victor's ceremony. He places the shining ring over her head gently, with both hands. If he keeps pushing it down, Clove imagines it would make for a perfectly pretty collar. A leash. Perhaps even a noose.

* * *

Cato's body buzzes with eagerness as he pulls her up into his suite.

 _(What's a King without a Queen?)_

She won her crown, and he won _her_.

* * *

 **End of Chapter 1**

* * *

 **Some yay or nays:**

 **Do you guys want a fluffy Katniss and Peeta, or a more angsty version? - fluffy or angsty?**

 **I'm thinking of having a scene where Katniss meets Clove and dislikes her (most of the outer Districts who hate the Capitol think she's a traitorous whore kind of thing, and think she only won because Cato liked her enough to buy her life with the anti-venom), Katniss whines about Clove to Haymitch & Peeta and Haymitch goes a little bat shit and tells Katniss to watch wtf she says, then Peeta is curious enough from Haymitch's reaction to go out of his way to meet Clove and then starts to piece together that Clove isn't married to Cato willingly. Peeta being his amazingly kind self reaches out to her a bit. Peeta and Clove start a tentative friendship that does not bode well for Peeta when he gets captured during the Quell and is at Cato's mercy - yay or nay for this idea?**

 **Clove getting selected for the Quell? (she's pregnant, so Snow hopes this will help drive sponsors to her instead of the girl on fire) - yay or nay for this idea?**

* * *

 **A/N I essentially just thought of this then posted it. I will likely come back one day and flesh it out a bit more, but I really just wanted to post this plot bunny so I could get back to finishing Chapter 3 of 'A Monster's Prize' :P Thoughts? Disturbed? (I know I am). I will one day come back and fix the tenses.**

 **Reviews are life ;) Spelling mistakes? Grammar issues? (galore, I know, that will be fixed one day) Is my Cato the worst human being ever, and a kindred spirit with Ramsay Snow/Bolton? (Yup.)**


	2. Preview for Chapter 2: White & Blue

**A/N: Jan 08 - Huge edit of Chapter 1**

* * *

 **Preview** **of Chapter 2: White & Blue**

* * *

She is so excited for the Victory Tour, that her eyes water with joy and hope every time she thinks about it. _Home_ , she thinks wondrously, with a desire so potent she can taste it. _I can finally_ _go home._

Then she gets on the train, and sees Cato draped languidly on the couch. He smirks at her, saying without actually speaking: _not yet, Clover._

...

-Clove is in a wedding gown, contemplating how best to kill her future husband.

…

She gets a visit and is left with a white rose as a souvenir to remember it by.

"A gift for the newest addition to our family."

 _A gift._ Clove mocks, cutting herself on the thorns. _A warning, a threat, a promise._

"Thank you, Mr. President."

"Please Clove," he smiles as he puts his heavy hand on her shoulder. "Call me Grandfather."

 _A warning, a threat, a promise._

 _Don't forget who you truly serve now._

...

-The first time Clove suspects she is pregnant, she drinks enough alcohol to poison herself and the little monstrosity growing inside of her. The idea of bringing another Cato into this world is enough to drive her mad with rage and grief and horror.

...

-Brutus is the one who finds her with a bloody coat hanger, collapsed and shaking in the corner of the bathroom on the train.

...

-Enobaria gives her pills in secret, tells her to hide them somewhere Cato will never find them.

Clove hugs her then, tight, thanking her for taking the risk to get her them.

…

-Her secret friendship with Finnick is both a necessity and a liability. Necessary for her sanity, and a liability for both of their longevity. Cato would probably force her to bed him in front of Finnick, or have Finnick flogged to death in front of her, or maybe even force her to be the one to flog Finnick to death, if he ever suspected she spent time alone with the District 4 Victor.

…

"I can't keep living like this." she admits that evening, one drunk to another.

"Most of us have been dead for a long time," counsels Haymitch.

She isn't sure if she appreciates his honesty, but she laughs so hard she cries, so there's that. She was convinced she had used up all her tears.

...

Clove is the youngest female Victor in history.

The Capitolites think she is a doll. They paste her and Cato on magazine covers, cooing over the picturs as both of them smiling at each other in the most perfect(ly artificial) marital bliss. She stands beside him, holding his hand in every one of President Snow's Capitol addresses. Every time they are interviewed and she is asked questions about him, she gushes about how _kind_ Cato is. She lets them know how gallant, attentive, and noble he is. How she wouldn't have survived the games without him. How she is just _the luckiest girl in the world_ to have his attention and love. {the words are white rose petals, slipping through her lips and slicing her tongue with their edges as they exit}

...

The Capitolites think she is a doll.

(Her district thinks she is a snob. Her siblings hate her. The other Victors pity her. The outer districts and incoming tributes _affectionately_ know of her as the girl who whored her way into being a Victor.)

...

-She runs through the forest, scared out of her fucking mind. The spear whizzes by her head, so close the wind from it brushes her cheek. She is _terrified._ Tree, tree, root, root, she runs, jumps, runs, ducks, runs, dodges, _runs_. She doesn't doubt she will die today. Cato _knew_. He knew what she had done.

"You better keep running Clover!" He laughs. "You're not going to like what happens if I catch you!"

...

-She feels his weight on top of her, a blade to her neck, his breath racing and his eyes clouded in fury. _I'm going to die._ She thinks. _After everything I fought through, after everything he put me through, after everything I_ survived, _I'm going to die_. She had ran as fast as she could, but she knew Cato wouldn't have let her free even if she had passed his little test. She comes back from her thoughts and realizes Cato is _still_ gloating. She tries to ignore it. Tries to ignore all his salacious remarks and horrible insults (it's not like they're new). His right hand lets the knife dance above her stomach and she can no longer keep silent. "I'm pregnant." She gasps out, hating herself for how weak it sounds (though the hoarseness is mostly secondary to his left hand doing a fine job of trying to crack her trachea).

Cato rolls his eyes. To be frank, he isn't sure he cares. Even if she loses this brat, if he actually wanted one, he could just put another inside her.

...

-Clove watches Katniss volunteer for her sister, and she _understands._ She understands what it means to give up everything for your siblings. She prays, fervently, that Katniss will win and make it back home. _(At least one of them should)._

...

-At every Capitol event they attend, Cato plays his part brilliantly. He calls her Clover endearingly, kisses her cheek at every chance. She hears them all swoon as they gossip amongst themselves, all the Capitol socialites. They gush loudly about how _kind_ he is, how _gallant_ he is, how _attentive_ he is to his pretty young wife, how _noble_ he is to marry a girl from the Districts, and isn't she just _the luckiest girl in the world_ to have his attention and love.

{petals, more and more petals; the thorns are scratching her throat on their way out, perhaps sh'll get lucky and choke on the blood}

...

-When Katniss and Peeta win _together_ , Clove feels something that she hasn't known in the past two years. She feels hope.

...

That night, with her husband's sleep-heavy arm draped across her stomach like a chain and his deep breaths brushing her neck, Clove _thinks_. She thinks and thinks and thinks. A rebellion is coming, and when it does, she will help them every step of the way. And if they ask Clove to dispose of her husband? Well, they won't need to ask, _she'll volunteer._


End file.
